


Trouble

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 13:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: A coffee break turns into a coffee habit turns into trouble. Slibbs





	Trouble

He knew he was in trouble (what day was it?) when the barista had his coffee ready. And Jack’s. He wondered how long it took for a habit to form- three days? Four? Five? _Seven_ his memory helpfully supplied. (There it was- Day 7.) This was the seventh day he had bought her coffee. Or whatever the sludge was in her cup. He hadn’t bought coffee for anyone on a regular basis since- _Kate_ , his memory piped up again. He told it, and his heart, to keep it down.

He knew he was in trouble (Day 2) when he began leaving it on the corner of his desk (he wasn't an errand boy) for her to pick up every morning. "First and last time I deliver," he had told her. (Day 1.) "From now on, you want it, you come and get it." _So it really only took one day to form the habit,_ his devious mind suggested, while simultaneously considering the multiple avenues his comment had opened. And if her arched eyebrow and twitch of her lips were any indication, she was contemplating the paths to go by, too. She _did_ come and get it; the coffee, at least. In pencil skirts (Day 2) and knee high boots (also Day 2) and open collared shirts that hugged her like gift wrap (every damn Day). With a California glow that brightened a Washington gloom. (Day 4, 5 and 6- 3 days of rain) and a smile that did even more (also _every goddamn Day_ ). 

He knew he was in trouble when he'd gotten some hair-brained idea in his head that he should lift the cup and pass it to her (Day 4), making her fingers brush across his and holding firm until he had the sense to slip his fingers out from underneath. (Unlike the habit, that only happened once. Lesson learned.)

He knew he was in trouble when Bishop held his gaze with a knowing smirk. (Day 4 again, though he probably wasn't giving her enough credit. She was quicker than he'd admit.) She caught something between them, whatever the hell that 'something' was, because he as sure as hell didn't know.

_Really, Gunny?_ his mind, tired of being ignored, butted in. _Ya really don’t know, huh?_ He had dulled the nagging with a special whiskey he kept hidden away, used only when he needed to keep his mind and heart apart, and when she came over. Funny how he was drinking that particular whiskey nearly every night for one reason or another.

He _really_ knew he was in trouble on Day 8, when the elevator door opened to his floor and she stepped in, grabbed the coffee from his hand, smiled, and hit her button, while he stood thinking there wasn’t a better way he could’ve started the day. It was only when the doors closed that he realized he missed his stop. Her amused hum didn’t go unnoticed. His finger flicked the elevator switch and the car jerked to a stop. Her amusement didn't wane. If anything, his action brought it to the surface in her light-hearted laugh as she turned towards him.

"Anything I can do for you, Cowboy?"

It was the same tone he had used when he told her to come and get her coffee- meaning no more on the surface than the words themselves, but underlayered with heat. He looked to the ceiling and tilted his upper body side to side as if contemplating the question, even though they both already knew the answer.

"Yeah," he replied at last. "Yeah, I think there is." 

With his free hand, he brushed back her hair as a precursor to his intent, to give her a chance to say no. It wasn't that he was uncertain- he had enough experience with women to get _that_ much about them- but he wanted to give her the chance to be sure. The hand curled under his elbow was her answer. His mouth on her lips was his.

The kiss was the gentleness of a "Good morning," with the intimacy of "There's no going back from this." If the way she kissed in return was any indication- all soft moans and firm grip- she didn't mind. He could only do so much with one hand (at least in the context of the setting and public decency) and his frustration manifested itself through the step forward he made to pin her to the elevator wall. She met his advancement with one of her own, and the confidence behind it made him moan into her mouth. Her indulgent laugh was rewarded with a possessive bite of her bottom lip and she yelped with a bright surrender that only made his body tighter, his mind cloudier. 

"My coffee," she mumbled under his teeth. She had held the cup away in the wake of his seductive assault. When he let go and pulled back to look into her eyes, she shrugged. "Girl's gotta have priorities."

The sass made him scowl and flick the elevator back on. But not before swallowing her laughter with another kiss. 

_Yep. Trouble_.

…..

He blew into her office on Day 1 under the pretense of a case, but it didn't take long for her to suss out the true nature of his visit. Or, at least, in the literal sense. God only knew what went through his head on most days. He placed the object of his visit on her desk. 

"First and last time I deliver," he had told her. "From now on, you want it, you come and get it."

It had taken everything in her to not volley _that_ one back with equal suggestiveness. The only thing that stopped her was the aforementioned problem of figuring out just what the hell went through his head most days. So instead, she raised an eyebrow and tried to hold in her smile. Her thanks received a noncommittal shrug, and he was gone. 

It was only when she was left alone with her steaming beverage that she realized the true meaning of his words. No, not the ones that were practically a single entendre, but the ones just before them- "From now on". Meaning… was he really going to buy her coffee every day? She opened the lid and inhaled the sugary aroma while she pondered what it all could mean.

On Day 2, she got an idea of what it meant from Tim, of all people, in the elevator, where all major events seemed to happen in the building. She had just come down the stairs in the black pencil skirt she knew he secretly enjoyed, to see if he really did buy her a coffee for the second day in a row. She had a file at the ready in case he hadn’t, but sure enough, there it was, perched on the corner of his desk. Replacing the coffee with the file, she had offered an invitation to discuss the contents if needed, then turned to go back upstairs, a small sweet smile the only indication she gave him about the beverage in her hand.

She should have known it wouldn’t go unnoticed. They were _his_ agents, after all. 

“I haven’t seen him buy coffee for anyone since Kate.” McGee dropped that tidbit of information, not in a sly or probing way, just in his affable Tim way. “Agent Todd,” he added, his eyes apologizing for assuming.

The name was another piece of the Gibbs puzzle she had been working on since the day they met. The name also explained why there was cream in her coffee yesterday.

"Ah," she said aloud, and was grateful he didn’t push when his raised eyebrow went unanswered. Regardless of what may or may not be happening between them, she would never lay Gibbs' emotional baggage out for all to see.

She rode down with Tim, dropped him off, then went all the way back up to her office, taking the time to mull over the coffee and Kate Todd. Today, the coffee was exactly how she liked it, and she wondered if he knew of his error. She also wondered what it meant that she had now joined the hallowed ranks of Agent Caitlin Todd. Her name was often spoken like a prayer, and Jack didn't take Tim connecting them together lightly. Of course she knew about the agent; Jack had read every file of every previous agent on Gibbs’ team. But she hadn’t been around in those early years to see the dynamics of the team. Now, a picture was starting to develop, not just of Gibbs and Kate but of Gibbs and herself.

Without the advantage of knowing Gibbs' coffee history with Kate, it took Bishop an extra day to put things together. But when Jack came down the stairs, punctually at 9:01 (military people and their punctuality!) and swiped the cup from his desk, it must've become clear. Or maybe it was the look Jack gave him that was returned with a smile he thought was hidden only to her by his downcast head.

Whatever the reason, she was right in the middle of contemplating what it all meant-

_Really, Jack? Two adults playing flirty games over coffee and you really don't know what it all means?_

-when Bishop rapped on the doorframe before coming in.

"So," the young agent began.

Despite her smirk saying all that she needed, Jack wasn't going to make it easy for her.

"So?" she repeated, as if she didn't know exactly what Ellie was implying.

"You and Gibbs. Coffee."

Jack hadn't expected the jump from innuendo right to flat out facts, but in hindsight, it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Bishop's minimal time for bullshit was one of the things she liked about her, and without a doubt was one of the reasons Gibbs adored her.

"It's just coffee, Ellie."

Bishop hummed a reply while sauntering over to the sucker bowl. She pretended to pick one, then glanced up at Jack. She pretended to pick another one, then glanced up again. Ellie laughed. "You're really good at your job," she said with utmost respect. 

"Thank you."

"But I wonder if there's a big difference between analyzing suckers and analyzing coffee?" 

The question was wrapped up in an innocence Jack knew wasn't nearly as sincere as her compliment. She couldn't help but laugh in admiration. 

"Noted."

"Just…," She shrugged and looked off to the side, almost with a shyness. "Just be good to him." 

Jack's eyes softened. "Ellie…"

Before things went any further, Bishop grabbed 3 suckers, waved them at her and said, "Figure _that_ one out." 

The rain came on Day 4, 5 and 6, but he seemed to brighten, even just a little, during what was now becoming a morning habit. She didn't even bother with the pretense of having case information; instead, she would stop at the landing between the two sets of stairs long enough for his peripheral picked her up. She knew when by the twitch in the right corner of his mouth. Then she'd descend the rest of the way, give her greetings to three agents who watched her repeated appearances with various levels of curiosity but all with the same amount of brightness. It was as if they had grown just as fond of the ritual as she had, a quick touching base and send-off for the day. If she gave it much thought (and she did), she'd think it quite… domestic. It didn't help that all she wanted to do was lean over his desk and give him a greeting not entirely office appropriate. If the way he tried to sneak a look at her (admittedly purposely snug shirts) was any indication, she wasn't the only one. 

Something was different about him on Day 7. Oh, the twitch of the mouth was still there, the coffee still waiting patiently on the corner of the desk, the side-long appraisal of her knee-high boots. But there was a smoulder now, a secret behind the smirk, a heat in the blue eyes that, for the first time since the ritual began, met hers, catching her off-guard.

Figuring tit-for-tat, she intercepted him at the elevator on Day 8, and was pleased to know she could give as good as she got, because he had yet to put on his Gibbs Face and met her expression with surprise. His eyes were still sleepy soft, tempting her with the thought of what it would be like to wake up beside him. She tried to focus on taking the coffee from his hand instead. Enjoying the heat and his still mild confusion, she turned to face the doors as they closed, a teasing hum in her throat when he missed his stop.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his dismay, though whether it was at her amusement or the hazy state she put him in, she wasn’t sure. His grunt foreshadowed his reach towards the elevator switch, jerking the car to a stop. Her hum blossomed into a full laugh.

"Anything I can do for you, Cowboy?"

She purposely used the same tone he had when he told her to come and get her coffee. _Two can play at that game_ , she thought, though a clench in his jaw hinted at something more serious. He seemed to be debating the question, though it was a simple formality, really. His casual shift in his shoulders told her the answer before he said it aloud.

"Yeah," he replied at last. "Yeah, I think there is." 

His free hand brushed back her hair, and any other time, she would have melted at his chivalry, his pause to give her a chance to back out, but God damn, 8 days of coffee was the longest foreplay she’d ever had. Her hand curled under his elbow served to pull him closer and give her some stability when his lips brushed against hers.

It was a "Good morning," and a promise all rolled into one. The soft moan she offered in return pulled him even closer, pinning her to the elevator wall. If he thought his size and intensity would draw out a surrender, he was sorely mistaken, and now it was his turn to moan as she leaned into his length. The speed in which he yielded to her body and her mouth made her laugh under his lips, and she was rewarded with a possessive bite that only made her laugh more, only made him press harder into her even as he willingly submitted. 

"My coffee," she mumbled under his teeth. He pulled back to look at her and followed her gaze to her outstretched arm where the cup was being held to avoid being spilled. His one-note laugh conceded his place in her pecking order. She shrugged away his dismay. "Girl's gotta have priorities."

She would never not be sassy with him if it was always going to bring out that look, a delicious combination of scolding and want. He reached to flick the elevator back on, but not before swallowing her laughter with another kiss. She felt the coffee slosh in the cup, but she secretly didn’t care. Maybe not-so-secretly if his cocky grin was anything to go by. Oh, he was going to be trouble. 

…..

-end


End file.
